When in Doubt: The Special Features!
by GPP
Summary: During the crazy collaboration many bunnies reared their furry little heads. We couldn't use them all, so rather than shutting them in a box where they would inevitably plot our demise and achieve world domination, we wrote them down. You've been warned.
1. WiD: Use the Bathroom!

"I've always wanted to join the mile high club."

"Your wish is my command."

"I'll go first, follow me in ten seconds."

"I'll try to wait that long."

She giggled. "Naughty man!"

He smirked and pinched her ass as she shimmied pat his seat.

The airplane bathroom was smaller than she remembered and she took the few seconds of alone time to run a wet one over her body. Ladies did not sweat. Even in 90 degree weather. If they did, they used wet ones. The first rule she'd learned from her mother, the second she'd made up on her own. A woman had to be able to improvise.

"Knock knock." The bathroom door cracked open. "Are you decent?"

"Never."

"That's my little minx."

His lips pressed against hers, swallowing her giggles even as his hands made short work of his fly. She'd already stashed her panties in her purse and after a brief nod to foreplay, his hands on her breasts, her hands on his penis showing it where to go, he was inside her. She was a tight little ride, always ready and eager. Quick to climax. And a screamer.

The last bit could pose a problem he realized as she reached the edge of her orgasm and threw her head back to scream in ecstasy. The thought of losing his right to ever fly Southwest Airlines again and the possible consequences of anyone from the service hearing about this caused him to forget that they were in a tiny airport stall.

He pressed her hard against the door and slammed his mouth against her, stopping her screams with his tongue and he pounded into her. With a final thrust he reached his climax.

It was one thrust too many.

The door they had been leaning against was not designed to withstand any sort of force. In fact, airplane bathrooms had been specifically designed to give way to force so flight attendants could get in if needed to assist passengers. The force of two bodies fucking against it was too much and on that final thrust it gave out, sending the couple sprawling into the aisle.

"You have _got _to be kidding me!" The blonde stared incredulously down at the couple, her face contorted in utter disgust. "Mom?"

Jinx Shannon stared up at her eldest daughter over Mike Faber's shoulder. "Mary…What are you doing here?"

"Marshall and I are fly—" Mary stopped dead, "you know what.. never mind. Just..." She shuddered.

"Is everything alright?" a flight attendant asked coming up behind Mary's shoulder. She took in the couple, still lying on the floor. She took in the sight of Faber's bare ass and a red flush crept up from her collar bone to her hairline.

Faber rolled off Jinx and the two women were treated to an unwelcome look as his penis before he managed to get it stuffed back into his pants. "We were just at a funeral," he said hastily, "thought this might raise her spirits."

"Classy." The flight attendant snarled. "Now get the fuck up and go back to your seats. There are children on this flight!"

Jinx rose to her feet and planted both hands on her bony hips, "is that any way to speak to a paying customer?"

"She _paid_ you?" The flight attendant looked at Faber as she spoke, a look of utter contempt on her face.

Mary stifled a snort of laughter. She still had to pee, but no way was she walking away from this catfight in the making.

"Is everything ok back here?" The second flight attendant, a tall man with teeth so white they had to be caps, asked coming to join the small cluster of people by the bathroom.

"This... stewardess is being incredibly rude!" Jinx sputtered indignantly.

"These two were having sex in the bathroom," the flight attendant answered at the same time.

"Again?" The man's face contorted with rage, "Don't you have a home with a bed where you can fuck like normal people?" He asked, waving a finger in front of Faber's face, "You! Wasn't it last week I –"

Faber widened his eyes and shook his head frantically.

Mary grinned. This was getting good. Too bad Marshall was sound asleep, he would never believe her.

"I guess not," the male flight attendant took Faber's hint, some sort of male solidarity Mary would never understand. "Please return to your seats. We'd appreciate it if you would both stay in them for the remainder of the flight."

The female stewardess rolled her eyes at her colleague, "I have had it with these motherfuckers having sex on this mother fucking plane!"

"I dunno," he replied in a flirtatious tone, "I was hoping you'd be the sky candy on this flight. You're looking especially delicious this evening."

"I love it when you demean me, Rick."

_A/N: while trying to research whether sex on a plane is actually illegal or just moderately gross and incredibly awkward.. I came across some serious gems on Yahoo! Answers... I thought I'd share:_

_**Question:**__ I have a friend who swears if you get caught having sex on an airplane you can be arrested. I say at worst they will kick you off the plane. _

_**Best Answer:**__ They can't kick you off the plane – that would be murder. _

_**Question:**__ Why is it illegal to have sex in and airplane bathroom?_

_**Runner up Answer:**__ There is no legal rule against having sex in an airplane bathroom, it's just crowded when you get three people in the bathroom at one time. _

_**Best Answer:**__ Because they are made for people going, not coming. _


	2. WiD: Retrospect!

_Mary sat in her chair catatonically. She didn't acknowledge Marshall as he moved to crouch down in front of her. "Mare," he waved a hand in front of her face, "you in there?" Deep down, he was worried; it was rare for him to see her like this._

___The last time had involved five rapid-fire shots of Bacardi 151, a small cactus and a very confused llama_…

*****February 5****th****, 2009*****

Mary crouched below the window. The evening was cold and millions of stars blanketed the sky. Marshall was about ten yards behind her around the corner of the barn. She'd won the rock, paper scissors game for once and had been the designated scout. She would go first to make sure that the coast was clear.

Mary kept low to the ground as she dashed through the open barn. She passed the empty stables quickly before flattening herself against the opposite wall. She motioned for Marshall to follow her as she peeked around the doorframe.

Mary felt warm breath against her neck. She paid it no mind; it was just Marshall. He had a habit of standing too close. The warm sensation continued.

"Geez, Marshall," she whispered without turning around, "back off a little, will you?" She waved her hand behind her head to get him away.

The feeling came back after a few moments. She was beginning to get really irritated with him. "Marshall!"

"What?" Marshall whispered as he appeared at the other side of the door.

Mary did a double take before slowly turning around. Within inches of her face was a llama. She gave a startled cry as she stumbled backwards out of the barn.

Marshall watched the scene unfold in slow motion: Mary being startled by the llama, Mary stumbling backwards out of the barn, Mary tripping over the rake that lay haphazardly under some brush, Mary falling ass-first onto a small cactus.

Their cover had been blown already and Marshall wasted no time in making his way to his embarrassed partner.

"Mary! Are you okay?" He held a hand out to her, "It's just a llama; a harmless creature!"

"Owww," she groaned as she accepted his hand.

Her face was a shade of red he'd never seen before. Marshall quickly made sure she wasn't seriously injured (aside from her pride) before allowing himself to chuckle.

"Aw, come on, Mare, he was just saying 'hello'!" Marshall grinned as he made his way back to the llama, "Llamas greet by gently blowing on each other." Marshall reached up and stroked the llama's neck.

Mary didn't move from her spot. She secretly hoped it would spit at him. When she saw the llama react to the attention Marshall was giving it, she spun around and stalked towards the house. _Why the hell does Bobby D have to live behind a llama farm, anyway!_

Marshall made quick work of catching up. Their plan to sneak up on Bobby had failed miserably. Now, they just wanted to drag him out for a drink.

****2 hours later****

"Mary, I can't believe you, of all people, were scared of a llama!" Bobby D was three sheets to the wind as he signaled for another drink, "This is the best birthday present ever!"

"I wasn't scared; just startled," Mary rolled her eyes as she sipped her fifth beer. Bobby's birthday celebration wasn't going quite as she and Marshall had planned it but this was as good as anything.

"Come on, Shannon," Bobby leaned towards her (a little too close for Marshall's liking), "I'll bet you can't match me. I'm already four shots ahead of you."

Marshall took note as his partner's eyes darkened at the challenge issued to her. Before he could interject, she accepted the challenge by downing the remaining three quarters of her beer in two long gulps. He was forced to avert his eyes when they became too focused on the way her lips hugged the neck of the bottle and his pants needed adjusting as his gaze followed the liquid down her throat.

"Mare, you don't have to do this," Marshall scooted his chair so he was in front of her as he pleaded; he'd never seen her as drunk as she would be if she accepted Bobby's challenge. He knew that alcoholism was hereditary and also that Mary was very careful to not follow in her mother's footsteps.

"Aw, come on, Marshall! Lighten up!" Mary raised her empty bottle in the air, "It's Bobby D's birthday!" The bottle slipped from her hand and she scrambled to catch it before it shattered on the floor. In her efforts to retrieve the bottle, she lost her balance and fell forward.

Marshall was able to catch her; just not soon enough. His ears turned bright red as he looked down to see her face in his lap. He squeezed his eyes shut and prayed she would simply laugh it off. He risked a glance over at Bobby who was leaning on the table while watching them with interest. Their eyes met and Bobby cracked a cheesy grin and gave him a thumbs up.

"Nice!" Bobby mouthed to him as the blush Marshall's ears made its way down his neck. Marshall sent him a stern look as he shifted his chair away from Mary while moving to prop her back up.

Mary yanked her arms away from his grasp and leaned back on the table. She pointed at Bobby, "You're on!"

Marshall hung his head in resignation as he prepared himself to play the role of baby-sitter. He took slow, moderated sips of his beer as he watched the duel between Mary and Bobby play out.

Five rapid fire shots of Bacardi 151 and three more beers later, Mary appeared to be holding her own. 'Appearances can be deceiving,' Marshall reminded himself as he finished his beer. Bobby, who was not even trying to hide his inebriation, stood up and held his hand out to Mary.

"Nice, Shannon," his voice carried through the bar, "way to drink like a man!"

"No, drinking like a Mann involves two beers tops," Mary said as she shook Bobby's hand.

Marshall rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders. "Come on, you guys, let's get ya'll home." Marshall led them out of the bar and into the chilly evening.

"Did you just say 'ya'll'," Mary slurred as she rolled her head back to look up at him.

Marshall merely rolled his eyes as he helped Bobby into the backseat of the GMC and then opened the passenger door for Mary.

She didn't budge.

"Come on, Mare," Marshall sighed, "please get in the truck. It's late and you're already going to have a killer headache tomorrow."

Mary gave him a look he'd never seen her direct at him before. He vaguely recalled describing her as a 'wild animal' at some point during their partnership. Seeing this look that she gave him only backed up his metaphor. Her eyes had darkened as she straightened her posture and began to saunter closer to him. His breath hitched in his throat as he glanced nervously behind him; hoping Bobby would be able to protect him from whatever Mary was planning.

Bobby was passed out in the backseat.

Marshall gulped as Mary continued to advance. He was surprised at how smoothly she was walking given how much alcohol she'd ingested in the past hour.

"Mare?" He looked nervously to his right and left; there was no escape. She was coming at him from his right and the open door blocked his left. There was no way he was going to be able to make it around the vehicle before she reached him. "Mare," he tried to keep his voice level, "what are you doing?"

She said nothing as she held his gaze. She was now so close to him that her breasts brushed against his chest. Marshall swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked deep into her eyes. His eyes followed her right hand as she slowly traced a finger up the center of his abdomen. He began to force his breathing to calm as her finger rose to his collar bone.

Marshall willed is hand to gently stop her ascent. "Mare," he cursed his voice for betraying him as he croaked, "what are you doing?"

Her eyes darkened as she leaned in closer to him. On impulse, Marshall closed his eyes and mirrored her movement. Time stopped as their lips touched. She tasted like Bacardi and apples; it was delicious.

He was jerked back to the present as he stumbled backwards. Momentary hurt from the thought of her pushing him away again changed to something tenderer as he held a passed-out Mary in his arms.

Marshall lifted her gently and put her in the GMC. More than likely, she would not remember this part of the evening.

More than likely, he would never again know how she tasted. He licked his lips once more as he made his way over to the drivers' side of the truck.

Marshall sighed for what seemed like the one millionth time this evening. Mary with a hangover would be fun to handle in the morning. And by fun, he meant absolutely not.


	3. WiD: Any Door that Locks Will Do

Like the rest of the restaurant, the bathroom at the Capital Grille was spacious and lavishly decorated in tasteful neutrals. Mary had less than a minute to appreciate the marble counter top with lighted makeup mirror and row of floor to ceiling doors that gave women complete privacy in their toilet stalls before Marshall slipped in behind her.

He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her flush against him. She could feel his erection pressing against her ass and she gave a little wiggle just to hear him groan. He liked this, the public place, the fact that they could be interrupted at any moment.

Marshall let go of her hips with one hand so he could pull her hair off her neck. He nipped her earlobe. "Mary," he whispered huskily as his mouth moved to suck the creamy white skin of her jawbone right by her ear. He knew he was going to leave a hickey. He was glad. He wanted to possess her fully; brand her as his own.

Mary tilted her head back against his shoulder to give him better access to her throat. Whatever he was doing with his teeth, lips and tongue she didn't want it to ever stop. She cupped the back of his head, pushing him closer and arched against him, thrusting her ass backwards against his rock hard cock.

He pulled back from her long enough to spin her so he could kiss her on the lips. The kiss was hard, all tongue and teeth and heat. He pushed her backwards until she collided with the wall with a muted thud. His erection was pressing against her belly and she made quick work of his belt and fly.

Mary pushed his boxers down as Marshall managed to slide Mary's dress up to her belly button. They didn't dare strip completely. Not here, when any moment someone would be bursting through the door. They got just naked enough.

And then he lifted her and she wrapped her legs around his slender frame. Locking eyes with Mary, Marshall slid his penis into her warm, wet vagina. He watched her pupils dilate before her eyes fell closed. He captured her mouth in another kiss as they began to move.

She would have bruises on her back tomorrow. On her hip bones, the back of her head and her shoulders, but in the moment, Mary didn't care. She matched Marshall's movements, tilting her hips so she could take his entire length into her.

Marshall kept one hand on the wall for support, the other on Mary's breast, tweaking her nipple in time with his strokes. Her orgasm came quickly. Her inner walls tightened and she threw her head back, biting her lip to keep from screaming his name. Marshall's hips jerked one, twice and then he buried his cry of 'Mary' in her shoulder.

They stayed, collapsed against the wall for several seconds, panting before Marshall slid out of her and stuffed his penis back into his boxers. He ran a hand through his hair and did his best to look as though he'd only been to the washroom and not just fucked his girlfriend against a wall.

Mary pulled her dress back down and walked over to the sink to reapply her lipstick and tidy her hair. She sent Marshall back to the table first, following fifteen seconds later. She was pretty sure everyone in the restaurant knew what had just happened, but she was too sated to give a damn.


	4. WiD: Order More Wine

******A/N: This fourth and final chapter is NC-17 Slash. Content for Adults Only. *******

The name's Faber. Special Agent Mike Faber. FBI. And no, that doesn't stand for Female Body Inspector.

Although… It could.

It all started on a hot July morning. I had just fucked my latest girl to oblivion and lit up a post coital cigarette when out of nowhere she said, "Mary has an entire box of letters from James."

Now normally, I ignore practically every word that comes out of Jinx's mouth. She's a minx in the sack, but not exactly a Rhodes Scholar. But that morning's sex was better than usual and I was feeling generous. "Who is James?" I asked, figuring I could get her going on a half hour ramble and finish my cigarette in peace.

"My husband. FBI most wanted, James Shannon."

Suddenly Jinx Shannon vaulted herself from fuckable-but-no-more-interesting-than-a-blow-up-doll to possibly-useful-outside-the-sack. I was all ears. "Did she turn them in?"

"Mary? Deliberately turn in evidence against her precious daddy?" She ranted along this line for another ten minutes. I didn't listen. I was thinking.

Later that day, at the office I spent a few minutes looking up the James Shannon file. Pretty much your average bank robber, until I get to the part where he pulls a Houdini and evaporated into thin air.

That was twenty seven years ago. Today, at least as far as the FBI is concerned, James Shannon is dead. This is what the FBI does when they can't find someone after more than two decades. They save face and declare the poor bastard dead.

Or the lucky bastard, depending on how you look at it. In the case of James Shannon, it's definitely the lucky bastard. If he is ever found he's facing multiple sentences for armed robbery.

It was the kind of case that could make an agent's career. The kind of catch that lives on forever in the memory. And it was going to be mine.

Eight days later, thanks to a polite but pointed email from myself to US Marshal, Inspector Mary Shannon, I had the letters Jinx had spoken of. Two weeks after that I was no longer under investigation for misappropriated funds and I was boarding a plane to Newark, first class.

Newark, not exactly a prime spot for most people, but it was the home of Robert O'Connor, an agent with a greater yen to catch James Shannon than I did. Also, but all accounts and arrogant little cock sucker.

Something I would cure him of before I left Newark. Although, not in the way you might expect.

O'Connor met me at the airport. I knew who he was right away. Crew cut, not a smile line in sight, cheap suit. The guy was textbook FBI overachiever, except for the gleam in his eyes when we shook hands, that was from no textbook I had ever seen in any school, maybe in a dirty magazine while I was in school… but I'm getting ahead of myself.

We drove straight to the hotel from the airport and for nine days straight it was work, work, work… not that I mind working, but I'm more nine to five than five to five to five. You don't look this good at my age without at least a few hours of sleep each night.

The big break came on a Wednesday. Eleanor Prince, a seriously beddable analyst who made me question my decision years earlier to cut the analysts a wide berth, found a mug shot of our man in hole-in-the-wall Texas. Arrested for... surprise, surprise... theft. The arrest was three days earlier and it appeared he'd already been released, but it was proof positive that James Shannon – now James Griffin – was still alive and in need of a few decades behind bars.

Unfortunately, hole-in-the-wall Texas is a border town. So we wasted no time in contacting newspapers and TV networks across the south with James' picture. We labeled him armed and dangerous and offered a $1,000 reward for any information leading to his arrest. Within 24 hours his face was everywhere and the calls were pouring in. I let Eleanor and her team handled the tip line while O'Connor and I went out for a steak.

He wasn't thrilled, but when I pointed out that it was the underling's job to sort out assholes who'd seen a blonde man a week ago who looked shady and thought they could get a grand for calling it in from genuine tips. Also, since everyone in the service is tied by a very short cord to their blackberry, we can enjoy a fillet mignon and still help the idiots with the little problems they will inevitably come up with the second I leave the room.

So there we are, slicing into some prime steak, downing our third glass each of merlot – all on the FBI expense account of course – when I caught that look again. Somewhere between a santa-like twinkle and a stripper's come-and-get-it-big-boy.

It had been two weeks since I'd even had time to walk the dog, so I thought, _why the hell not?_ And ordered another bottle of wine.

Five glasses of wine was apparently O'Connor's limit. After I charged the bill to his FBI expense account the hostess called a taxi and I half carried him out to the street. Once in the cab he didn't remove his arm from around my waist and twice I was forced to remove his other hand from my upper thigh.

Clearly I had not misread the look. Now all I had to do was keep him under control until we were behind closed doors. After that who was I to deny the man what he so obviously wanted?

We went to O'Connor's room, because I never bring one night stands home if I can avoid it. Even if home is a hotel room. We did not turn on the lights, because, while I know his mouth around my cock will get me off, I have no desire to watch it happen.

It didn't take long to realize that while Robert O'Connor wanted a piece of this fine ass, he wasn't experienced enough to know how to go about getting it. It had been a few years since my last time, but I remembered the basics.

The fabric of his suit felt as cheap beneath my fingers as it had looked under the bright fluorescent lights of the airport two weeks earlier. I didn't waste time sliding the jacket off his shoulders and pushing him backwards towards the bed. He seemed to catch on quickly after that. At least as far as the getting naked part. He kicked off his shoes and took off his pants before trying to help me out of my clothes.

I shoved him back onto the bed, mostly to protect my $200.00 shirt from his fumbling fingers, and removed my own clothing one piece at a time and folding it on the chair. When this was over I wanted to make a quick, unrumpled exit.

There are few feelings in the world more gratifying than cool air on your skin, strong hands on your ass and a warm mouth around your penis. O'Connor made up for his lack of experience with enthusiasm. A lot of enthusiasm.

But unlike Jinx's enthusiasm, which usually leaves me bruised and walking crooked for an hour afterwards, Robert's enthusiasm was just right.

He started with one hand on my testicles. Rolling them and squeezing just so before bringing his other hand up to run along my length. It wasn't long until I was completely hard and my hips thrust towards him of their own accord.

He took the hint and sucked my entire length into his mouth and caressed it with his tongue. I grabbed the back of his head and held him there. It was hot and wet and good. His finger tips dug into my ass as he slowly pulled back before taking my entire length in his mouth again.

Now, I'm not one to brag, but I have stamina.

I let him work his mouth over me until the edges of my vision darkened with impending orgasm and then pushed him back onto the bed. I have never blown another man, and I was not starting this night, but he deserved something for his efforts.

I wrapped one hand around his penis and tightened it until he gasped and bucked against me. His 'oh god! Oh god!' drove me onwards and I worked my hands in time with his hips until he came with a shout that echoed off the hotel walls.

Then it was my turn again.

Without being asked, Robert turned over.

The next morning I woke in my own bed to the sound of my blackberry vibrating on the bedside table. Too tired and hung over to think straight I answered without checking the caller ID. "Faber!"

"Sir, it's Eleanor. They've found James Shannon."

Immediately I was wide awake. "Where?"

"He's dead."

"How?"

"Explosion at his home in Del Rio, Texas where he was living as a protected Federal Witness." Eleanor continued in a calm voice, "Allison Pearson of the US Marshal Service called. They want to speak with you personally."


End file.
